Spirals
by jillyfae
Summary: Sebastian/Fenris/Isabela, post-game romance and reconciliation
1. Chapter 1

_SEBASTIAN_

Sebastian hadn't realized how much he'd treasured the sound, held it close to his heart and his soul the few times it had happened, how much it had lit up the night when it rose above the quiet conversations they had together in Fenris' manor. He hadn't realized it was one of the few treasures of his life, until the first time he heard Fenris laugh in public.

Isabela's answering laugh was a sound he'd heard before, of course, (frequently at his own expense, the pirate routinely being unable to resist teasing the Brother in their midst, not that he minded as it was never mean spirited), but it seemed even richer and warmer than usual.

The two of them were sitting so very close together, so close her thigh was probably pressing against his, and with anyone else he'd just assume because Isabela, but for all her care-free ways and dreadful manners, she never pushed where she wasn't wanted.

Which meant Fenris wanted her there.

Which probably meant they were already lovers in private, if Fenris of all people was comfortable with that brush of heat in public.

It was wonderful, to see Fenris so self-assured. So comfortable. Happy, even.

Sebastian smiled, and ducked his head, looking down at his cards before Isabela caught his expression and commented on it.

They looked good together.

It was almost a year before he recognized the bite of jealousy.

Fenris was his friend. He treasured that relationship, that companionship. He'd had so few true friends in his life.

And he'd always liked Isabela. A bright and shining soul, for all she would seldom admit it. Plus it was impossible not to laugh when she was determined to provoke a reaction out of someone. He'd known her barely a sennight before he'd stopped trying to hide his amusement. She seemed to appreciate his sense of humor, even when she didn't seem to have much use for the rest of him.

At first, seeing them together had been all sorts of delightful. They were so very irresistible ... handsome, sensuous. Content, the both of them. Which didn't sound like much, perhaps, until one realized how very seldom either of them let themselves truly relax, let themselves experience something as warm and simple as contentment.

But it seemed, the more he saw them, the more he wondered if, despite it all, they were still just barely friends. They both deserved more than that, love and comfort and companionship. Trust in the darkness, more than just a handy fuck.

Which of course was when he realized that he wanted to be the one to give such things to them. As if he knew the first thing about love, about being a partner or a lover for more than a night in passing, as if he'd ever managed a successful relationship in his life.

As if he was free to make the offer, even if they had been interested.

As if it was any of his business, how they chose to be friends, or lovers, or more, or less.

For all he knew this was perfect for both of them, and he was the only one left wanting.

In fact, he was quite sure this was perfect for the both of them, because he was always the one left wanting.

_ISABELA_

Isabela prided herself on how very good she was at reading people. Easier to beat them at cards, or con them, or seduce them, or, most importantly, kill them before they killed you, if you knew what they wanted before they said a thing.

Even better if you knew what they wanted even before they had figured it out for themselves.

She wasn't sure if Fenris knew yet, or Sebastian, but she did.

The flash of heat in Sebastian's eyes when Fenris turned away to talk to someone else. The way that bright blue darkened, just a bit, when he saw Isabela and Fenris sitting together.

The flare of Fenris' nostrils when Sebastian came in the room. The tension in the lift of his chin, the line of his shoulders, when Sebastian stood too close, and yet never quite close enough.

They were crazy about each other.

But neither of them was doing a damn thing about it.

For once it wasn't even her fault, as Fenris was the one who'd fallen into bed with her, much to her surprise. She wasn't completely sure why, beyond the obvious appeal, (she was pretty spectacular after all), but had a sneaking suspicion it was because he felt he was safe from falling in love with her, so he could just figure out how sex could feel nice without worrying about emotions getting in the way.

Which suited her pretty nicely as well, so she was happy to oblige. Poor elf needed to learn how to have some fun.

And oh, did they have fun.

Only now she had the feeling she was his _excuse_.

That was no good.

And it wasn't bloody likely Choir Boy was going to admit to anything, not still living in the Chantry and clinging to the Grand Cleric's skirts as he was.

She was going to have to do something about it, wasn't she?

Andraste's tits, they were dense. On purpose, even. They were both smart boys, they ought to be able to figure out what she was doing, but they neither of them were cooperating.

The direct approach would've just convinced them both to shout denials and flee to their separate corners. Instead she flirted with both of them at the same time, so they were always too close to each other and perfectly aware of things like hands and asses and mouths and the easy availability of inappropriate contact. She even made sure to get them as revved up as possible right before leaving them alone for one of their 'friendly' dinners.

And they politely conversed and drank their wine and eye-fucked each other senseless and then pretended they weren't horribly frustrated and each left the room alone.

Or, well, she assumed the eye fucking from previous experience, as she'd actually left them really really alone, but she saw them both leave still fully dressed and not the slightest bit mussed and all their food was actually eaten instead of strewn about as if they'd bent each other over the table a time or three.

Idiots.

Fenris wasn't going to do anything unless Sebastian made the first move, and Vael hadn't made the first move on anyone in at least a decade, plus all those almost-still-a-Brother hang-ups, and neither of them were going to take her word for it that they should just stop dancing around each other and snog already.

She needed a new plan.

_FENRIS_

They were going to be the death of him. Fenris didn't understand what they _wanted_.

He'd dealt with lust before, of course. Seldom anything as pleasant as Isabela's straightforward desire, but he could recognize it, avoid it, occasionally even encourage it.

It was different, dealing with such things now. Choosing which avenue he wished to take, invitation or rebuttal. That choice was positively intoxicating, sometimes.

But he hated choosing when he didn't know enough, didn't understand the options, the ramifications. Didn't understand _why_.

Sometimes, when he and Isabela managed a night alone, they climbed up on the roof of his mansion and drank too much wine, and she told him how to navigate by the stars, for when he was ready to move on.

_So they could always follow them and find each other again?_

That seemed ... an unlikely conclusion to make, with Isabela, yet it was the one he kept reaching, nonetheless. She would always need the freedom of the sea and the wind, but that included the freedom to return.

He wasn't quite sure why she seemed to think him worth returning to, but he couldn't argue that the idea of it was incredibly appealing, so he tried not to worry it over in his thoughts too often.

He even mostly succeeding, unlike his repeated attempts to tell himself to stop thinking about Sebastian in much the same way.

He kept noticing the man's thighs. And his arse. And that impossible belt buckle would glare at him every time his gaze started to drop, and then he'd have to try and distract himself with something else, which only ever worked for a mark or two, and then there he'd be, eyeing the Brother up yet again, like he had some right to turn the man into his own personal fantasy.

He'd been forced to receive his fair share of unwanted attention over the years; he was constantly horrified that he seemed to be doing the same thing to one of his few friends. He was just thankful Sebastian pretended to ignore it, so he could as well, and at least they were still friends.

And then, every once in a while, he'd see Sebastian's eyes fixed on him, dark and heavy and blue and still, and he'd think he wasn't the only one considering more than friendship ... and then Sebastian would blink, and his expression would smooth, and Fenris was lost again, unable to tell what the man was thinking or what he wanted, and unable to figure out a way to ask.


	2. Chapter 2

_FENRIS_

Fenris could only remember a fraction of his life, had known what it was like to be lost and confused, and always, _always_, angry. He'd never thought he'd see Sebastian look as if he felt the same, shoulders hunched and back curved and jaw tight as he sat on a piece of a broken garden wall.

Fenris wanted to take Sebastian's face in his and kiss the pain away, soothe that hollow darkness behind blue eyes with the touch of his lips. But Fenris didn't know what to do with that sort of inclination, so instead he sat beside him, and listened to him breathe, and waited. He watched as Sebastian flexed his hands, fingers clenching, then relaxing, a shake of a wrist as if he was trying to distance himself from his own skin.

He felt a sudden surge of regret for all the times he'd been angry at the sympathy in Merrill's eyes, all the times he'd wanted to fight back when Sebastian had quoted something from the Chant at him. He knew now it wasn't pity, caught with an ache in his heart and no good way to express it.

Sebastian shifted on his rock, unease and sorrow and rage and exhaustion, and his knee brushed against Fenris' leg. He started to jerk back, a whisper, _an apology_, slipping between his lips, and Fenris realized he'd never actually touched the man before, never let himself be touched.

He would regret that, if it never changed.

He put his hand on Sebastian's thigh, and shook his head, just a little.

_It's alright._

It hurt, a bit, the way Sebastian startled, but it felt better than he'd expected when wide-eyed surprise softened to something that was almost a smile, edged though it was with bloodshot eyes and soot-smudged skin.

_Oh._

Now was probably not the best moment to realize admiration and appreciation had, at some point, changed to something else entirely.

_I have flawless timing._

Fenris swallowed a sigh, half amused and half bitter, shifting on the mostly flat rock until their legs were resting against each other, knee to hip. He was close enough now he could feel the ragged edge to Sebastian's breathing, could see the shiver across his shoulders for all the man was containing it so it didn't spread to his hands.

"I am sorry for your loss." At Fenris' soft words Sebastian's breath caught completely, and he dropped his face down into his hands.

Fenris leaned in a little closer, though with leather and armour in the way they could not quite touch, and stayed silent as Sebastian cried.

He did not sob, or wail. No more screaming, not since the first lost moment after the initial explosion. Just heavy breaths and hot tears, judging from the shift as he occasionally attempted to wipe a palm dry on his trousers.

"There you are!" There was a slide of rock behind them, rather obviously on purpose, as Isabela tended not to trip on things, giving Sebastian time to rub his face and clear his throat before she reached them.

"Yes?" Fenris raised his head to look at her as she stood over them, only realizing when he did how late it had gotten, heavy golden sunlight smearing across her skin through the shadows cast by the buildings on the other side of the residential court where they'd retreated to rest after helping to clear the path towards the remains of the Chantry.

"Camping in rubble is not the best plan for the night, I think?"

Sebastian coughed, a sound that made Fenris' chest ache, caught as it was between a sob and a bitter laugh. "No, probably not."

"Well then." She grinned, though it wasn't nearly as bright as her usual expression. "I have horses. And a tent."

Fenris raised his eyebrows at her. Setting out for the Coast at dusk was not generally a wise plan.

"We just helped kill a Knight Commander, sweet things. Even if she was crazy and possessed, we don't want to hang around the scene of the crime, now do we?"

"And Hawke?" Fenris asked.

"She and Merrill headed west to the Planasene, I do believe. Bethany claimed she was safe with the Knight-Captain, and rather shoved the rest of us out of the Gallows without letting anyone fuss, after." _After Meredith. After Sebastian left to see what remained of High Town, and I followed._ Isabela shrugged. "I thought we could head north."

Fenris nodded slowly. It would only help Aveline and Varric and the Seneschal restore order if all the 'trouble-makers' had disappeared.

"East might be better." Sebastian's voice was rough, but steady. "Easier to get to Ostwick along the Coast than deal with crossing the mountains."

Isabela blinked. "Thought you'd finally want to head home, Vael."

"Hasn't been my home in over fifteen years." He lifted his head to look at Isabela, and something in his face seemed to make her pause, shoulders and hips completely still as she waited. "Besides, it's not a very good hiding place. First place anyone would look for me, isn't it? Rather you left me in Ostwick."

"Who said we'd leave you?" Isabela's voice was soft, even as Fenris felt his body stiffen and his hands clench, trying to think of something to say more coherent than an angry growled no. _Does he think so little of us, believe we'd abandon someone, anyone, much less our friend?_

Sebastian turned as Fenris shifted, his face stiff and blank and pale. "Why wouldn't you?"

That face hurt more than anything that had happened to Fenris since Varania, and he suddenly understood Isabela' stillness, the mask she'd needed to hide her reaction to all that doubt and pain aimed inward.

"Because you're oh so pretty, of course." Isabela reached out, one hand almost resting on his shoulder before she shifted back again. "Besides, unless you gave away every silver you ever earned while following Hawke around, we'll probably need your coin."

At that he laughed, a wild impossible sound, as thoughtless as the wind and twice as cold. "But I did. If you want my coin, you'll have to dig for it."

_ISABELA_

They'd finally gotten Sebastian out of town, and down the coast, and into the tent, and he was at least pretending to be asleep.

Isabela was rather afraid he was staring blankly up at the canvas above him, but at least she was on the other side of the canvas, and could let herself sigh, and feel her shoulders slump with exhaustion, could let the practiced mask of almost-cheer slip off her face.

She very carefully didn't think too much about why she was expending so much effort to protect and herd the poor broken choir boy, or how much she was worrying that he'd stay broken, too much loss to put himself back together again.

She'd never had as much to lose as he did, really, her former families only barely Deserving of the names, and his had died in fire and blood. Twice.

That was a bit much, really.

_Stupid world._

She missed Hawke and Kitten already. And Varric and Bianca and Aveline ... and not thinking about Anders was vital to her continued ability to breathe, so.

_Always knew it couldn't last forever. _She'd rather hoped for at least a bit longer.

She was absurdly grateful to not be alone, which was another thing she wasn't thinking about, because it made her suddenly feel heavy and weighted down and for once she wasn't sure that was bad, because it was only Fenris and Sebastian after all, and that was just.

Well.

Lots of reasons not to think, tonight.

"I should have brought some proper drinks."

Fenris huffed a soft breath out beside her, and shifted to dig through his pack, pulling out a wine bottle that had apparently somehow been folded between a blanket and a spare shirt.

"That looks longer than your bag, how did you fit it?"

"Practice." He lifted an eyebrow. "Are you really more interested in how I packed it than in drinking it?"

They were half way through the bottle before her brain finally felt warm and squishy instead of cold and shocked, and she suddenly realized how very many innuendos she'd missed, based on length of bottle and size of pack and how to put things together, and she fell backwards until she sprawled across the ground with a groan.

"We are such a mess, aren't we?"

"Perhaps." She squinted through her lashes up at Fenris, still sitting, hunched over the one knee that he was using for an armrest. He was staring at the tent, and for once his expression was failing to be completely guarded, a line between his brows and tightened lips showing his worry.

"Finally figured out you're in love with the poor man, did you?"

He stiffened, a rise of his shoulders before he turned towards her. "I am yours, Isabela."

"No one belongs to me." She forced herself up onto her elbows to better aim her glare at him. "And you belong to no one."

Oddly, that made him smile. "I will always be here if you need me. How is that different?"

"It is exceedingly different." She snorted, even as she felt warm and awkward and touched and blinked her eyes. "And just because we like to fuck doesn't mean you can't also want to be naked with Vael."

Fenris' nostrils flared, and the growl deep in his throat sounded quite properly angry at her, for once, rather than someone else. "You are more than a fuck, Isabela. You would be the very first to yell at me for refusing to admit my own worth. Don't you start."

"There's nothing wrong with being friends who fuck." _ I do not feel defensive. What._

"I never said there was. I said that's not all we are. You shouldn't lie to yourself quite so thoroughly."

"I'm not!"

He just raised an eyebrow at her.

It was really hard to argue with an eyebrow.

She fell back flat on the ground with a grunt, trying to find the first faint stars in the sky. "Well. I guess I am very glad you're here with me."

"And him?"

"Don't push your luck." She smiled at the soft sound of Fenris' chuckle.

_We're alright then. That's something._

_Hope it's enough of a something._

_SEBASTIAN_****

Sebastian never cared to remember the time just after Kirkwall very clearly.

He liked it when he felt numb. He pretended to it, even when the peace of nothingness escaped him, when his heart ached and his thoughts swirled around and around, nothing solid enough to settle, everything sharp and jagged and brittle, too fragile to touch.

_All dead._

_A place of peace._

_It was supposed to be safe._

He despised Fenris and Isabela for refusing to leave him alone, to let him wander off and lick his wounds in private, to let him hide in a dark corner and waste away so he didn't have to feel anymore.

He was so very grateful for them.

There was no way to thank someone for saving your mind and your soul as well as your life.

He was quite sure they'd get annoyed with him if he tried, but on the days when he wasn't idly considering the way light glinted off the edge of his dagger, he attempted to think of some way to show his appreciation.

But he didn't have anything to offer to anyone, did he?

Not a Brother, never really a Prince. And he couldn't very well attempt to claim even a cousin's portion of support out of Starkhaven without risking attracting the Divine's wrath aimed against Goran and his people. After everything Starkhaven had been through, cleaning up after his family's murders the past six years, he wasn't about to make it worse.

At least he still had his bow. That might be useful to someone.

Or perhaps it would attract some desperate bandit, and they could loot it off of him, and then he wouldn't have to bother with anything anymore?

That would be almost tempting, if Isabela wasn't always so close behind, if Fenris wasn't always watching out for them. He hated them so much it broke his heart, the only thing he could really feel, the only thing that could settle uneven thoughts.

_Don't leave me._

It was the music that finally woke him up.

They'd made it to Ostwick unmolested; there were presumably too many tempting refugees fleeing Kirkwall to bother with three armed and armoured people with barely a pack each. He felt vaguely guilty about that, all those people scattered and hurting and likely to be hurt worse in the days ahead.

But it was a distant sort of guilt, rather like everything else, until he heard the fiddle, somewhere deep inside a tavern near the docks, a woman's voice singing along, words he hadn't heard in ... over twenty years?

Not since his Grandfather had played it for his wife when she was ill, his fingers nimble despite the shine in his eyes, her voice light and weak but still perfectly on pitch, right up until the day she died.

Sebastian stopped in the middle of the road, barely hearing Isabela swear, only just noticing Fenris shift and plant his feet beside him with a hint of a sigh.

_They would be disappointed in me, wallowing in grief, burdening my friends ..._

He could still see his Grandfather's face as he'd lit Grandmother's pyre. Could remember the set of his shoulders, the shadows in his eyes, the line of his profile as he lifted the torch. Grief had turned his hair grey almost overnight, but he'd never shirked his duties along the way.

_"That's enough of that, then, my boy. Time to stand up again now, isn't it?"_

_"Stand on your own two feet, Sebastian. Don't let yourself be blown about in the gusts of the wind as it passes you by."_

He shuddered, as the echo of Elthina's voice joined his Grandfather's, both of them always so much wiser than he ever managed.

Both of them gone.

He'd spent his whole life buoyed by their faith. In the Maker, when he felt himself purposeless, in him, when he felt himself worthless.

He didn't think he could feel that sort of faith anymore, not after Kirkwall, but he could still honor the memories of people who had.

_Can I?_

He lowered his head, considered closing his eyes, but didn't, quite. He could see the flex of Fenris' toes against the road beneath them, the shift of Isabela's heel as she scraped her boot through hard packed dirt.

He couldn't stand to watch them anymore. He'd wanted so many things in his life, and never managed to keep a one of them; this was one thing too many. _Why couldn't they have left me be, let me stay alone and numb? No one would have missed me._

So he turned and walked away.

They followed, of course, another oath from Isabela, slightly less soft than the last one, Fenris almost silent despite sword and armor, the barest hint of footsteps as he shifted his weight.

He made it into an alley of sorts, a gap between buildings, his face resting against rough wood and his hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell. He wanted to be able to wrap his arms around someone and have them want to hold him back.

Not just any someone, which was part of the problem.

Fenris would permit his touch, which was remarkable in and of itself, and Isabela would permit even more than that, if he asked, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough.

And yet.

It was more than he'd ever had before, wasn't it? Loyalty. Friendship that wasn't tied to place or rank or duty. They'd chosen to rescue him. It would have been so easy to leave him behind.

"I'm sorry." He was startled to hear his own voice, slow and quiet but smoother than he'd expected.

"For what?" Isabela thumped against the wall beside him, a curve of white just visible out of the side of his eyes. "Life's shit sometimes, sweet thing. Everyone needs a break now and then, wouldn't you say?"

"I seem to do nothing but break."

"Seem to be in one piece to me." Isabela poked him in the shoulder, and then down by his hip, and he was struck by the sudden urge to swat at her and stick his tongue out like a child.

Fenris huffed a soft laugh on the other side of him, apparently having seen the intention cross his face. "Part of her charm, some days, never leaving well enough alone. Other days I'm not quite sure why we put up with her."

"You put up with me because I'm brilliant, and sexy, and I kill things for you when you're too busy wallowing or brooding to notice them trying to get you."

That was accurate enough it was hard to laugh, though Sebastian tried, a ragged breath as he lifted himself away from the wall. "There's somewhere we need to go, then. To help with keeping all of us in one piece."


	3. Chapter 3

_FENRIS_

Sebastian seemed ... not better, that would take time, but, perhaps, lighter?

His chin was up, his eyes looking at the building around them, rather than counting horrors somewhere deep inside his own head. It was definitely an improvement, though Fenris wished he knew what had triggered it, just in case they needed something to pull him out of his head again in the future.

_I could kiss him._

But how poorly would Fenris have reacted, if anyone had kissed him when he was still getting his feet beneath him in Kirkwall, before Hadriana, before Danarius?

_Very poorly._

So instead he watched, and waited, and tried not feel useless, all sharp edges for killing and no skill or memory that would help him be soft when his friend needed it.

Not that Isabela was much better at it, truthfully, despite an abundance of literal soft curves and a preference for gold warm and heavy enough you could crease it with your fingernails. Emotional comfort was something else entirely.

Sebastian was the one who'd put names on memorial walls, sung soft versions of what Fenris thought was supposed to be _Benedictions_, or sometimes _Trials_, though they always sounded odd in common, rather than tevene, who could sit beside an angry soul for hours and not say anything at all, if that was what they prefered.

He was the only one besides Merrill who'd been able to get Hawke to eat the sennight after her mother was killed.

It felt like they were failing him, somehow, to not be able to ease his burdens when he'd so willingly shouldered theirs.

_And not a one of us ever thanked him for it, either._

"Here we are." Sebastian paused before what appeared to be an armory of some sort, and the small smile he aimed over his shoulder at the two of them was almost enough to make Fenris stumble, honest and sweet and almost wry, unlike anything he'd seen cross Sebastian's face since the explosion in Kirkwall. "Should have done this ages ago."

Isabela managed a slightly curious sounding hum, and they both followed him into the shop.

"Welcome, and how may I," the shopkeeper's rather sing-song greeting stopped mid-word, the warmth of his heavy accent giving a clue as to the cause of his surprise even before his eyes widened and he hurried forward. "Your Highness!"

"Ah, Dugald, I've never been your Highness, as you well know." Sebastian smiled, and reached out to grasp the older man's hand in a firm grip. "But it is very glad I am that you're here."

Isabela's swallowed hum was amused that time, at the way Sebastian's brogue had thickened to match Serah Dugald's.

"Anything I can do for you, you know that, Master 'Bastian."

It was Fenris' turn to swallow his amusement when Sebastian shrugged at what was obviously a very old nickname, quite possibly from back when he was a young boy running around in short pants.

"It's nothing too grand, I hope. I need you to send a message back to Starkhaven for me."

The shopkeeper blinked, even as Fenris felt Isabela still beside him.

"And why can't you be sending it y-" Dugald's question trailed off as Sebastian reached up and started to tug on the straps of his breastplate. Fenris waited, oddly breathless, until the curve of white metal was placed in Dugald's unresisting arms.

Sebastian smiled, soft and slow, something almost sad in the curve of his lips. "MacPherson lied, but it makes a good tale, doesn't it?"

Dugald's eyes closed, and Fenris could see the swallow down his throat. Obviously he knew what Sebastian meant. "You were at prayer when it happened, then?"

Isabela almost spoke at that, as they realized what was happening, an aborted sound of breath and voice, not quite words. Dugald and Sebastian both ignored her, sharing a stare, heavy with something that wasn't quite regret.

"That seems best, doesn't it?"

"Aye," Dugald agreed, a breath, a sigh, and he placed the breastplate down on the counter behind him. Fenris stepped forward to help Sebastian with the rest of his armor, even as Dugald stepped around them to lock the door and draw the drapes across the window.

Dugald took every piece, wrapped them up, and stood for a moment, his hand resting heavily on the package.

"Thank you, my friend." Sebastian held out his hand, ready to shake, ready to leave.

His whole body startled when Dugald pulled him into a hug instead. "As if I'd be letting you leave here bare and unprotected, my boy." He gave Sebastian a hard slap on the back, and Isabela laughed, a soft chuckle in the dark shop. "Leather would probably be easier to care for, and stand out less in your travels, yes?"

"Less likely to sink if he gets knocked over-board, too."

Dugald grinned at Isabela when she spoke up. "Ah, is that the way of things, then? Clever boy, you never were much of a sailor when you wandered before. Come along then." He tilted his head towards the back of the shop, obviously expecting them all to follow.

For a moment Sebastian seemed more like to run away, startled and uncomfortable, hands spread as if to push himself free. But then he caught Isabela's eye, her face still smiling, and turned to glance at Fenris, who managed a nod of his own. He shrugged then, arms easing back to his sides, and acquiesced.

_ISABELA _

The shopkeep took Sebastian's scale and leathers along with all the shiny white metal, leaving him standing in breeches and a simple linen shirt, toes curling against the wood beneath him as he argued about losing his boots as well.

"I'm rather sure these boots are the same ones you left Starkhaven in, my boy." Dugald poked Sebastian in the chest, eyebrows lifted and voice steady. "Nothing wrong with a new pair after a decade and a half, now is there?"

It was rather delightful to see someone treating their erstwhile noble like a little boy. Even if he quite clearly wasn't, with broad shoulders and a lovely tapered waist. It really was a shame he'd hidden himself away beneath that scale coat all those years. _Such a pretty view._

Poor Fenris was trying very hard not to stare. Isabela felt no such compunctions, and tilted her head to admire his ass before he sighed and sat down, conceding Dugald's point. "You don't need to go to such trouble for me."

"What's the trouble?" Dugald's voice was sharp now. "You're family, and your grandfather will quite refuse to drink with me again when it's my turn to find him beyond the Fade if I don't take care of you properly. Have you forgotten everything the old man taught you, those years in Kirkwall?"

"I suppose I did." Sebastian's mouth quirked sideways, just a little, something bitter and something sad and something almost like relief, all at once. "My apologies, Messere Dugald."

Dugald just snorted, and threw a new pair of boots at Sebastian's head. "Try those on."

Sebastian got into yet another argument with the shopkeep as they were trying to leave, whispered and vehement, though she caught a few words, a _there's no need_, versus a _don't be a tit_. She refrained from sneaking close enough to follow it all, though she had to swallow a grin when Sebastian finally swore softly and grabbed Dugald for one last embrace.

"Troublesome man," he muttered as he let go. "Thank you."

Dugald grinned, open and smug, and shoved them all out the door.

"MacPherson?" Fenris asked quietly as they reached the street, pausing to stare up at a sky easing towards evening before starting to walk towards the docks in search of room and board for the night.

"Bandit. Sort-of." Sebastian shrugged. "Got himself on the wrong side of a particularly petty lordling, who rushed through his trial and hanging before a request for a pardon could make it's way to his seat from the local governor. Or so the various laments and ballads claim." His lips twitched then, an unexpected smile. "Truthfully, he was just a very good liar, who played a fiddle easier than most people can breathe. He wrote a lovely song about his own death, after he promised the lordling he'd stay out of his territory."

"So your cousin will know you're not dead, but he'll make a big show of your funeral for Starkhaven." Isabela nodded. "Nice way to protect himself from pretenders and Divine retribution both. Clever."

"The Seneschal will probably dirty the armor up and put it on display in the Great Hall. Marta always has been good at her job."

"But you can never go back again." Fenris' voice was soft, but clear nonetheless.

Isabela wondered what it would be like, to have a home it was worth looking back towards.

"I knew that already." Sebastian tilted his head, a serious glance at Fenris' face. "At least this way I'm less likely to cause you trouble as well."

And there was that uncertainty in his voice again, the shift of his body and a lightness to his tone. He seemed constantly surprised to see them when he turned his head, as if he couldn't understand why they were putting up with him, but was afraid to ask in case that was the last straw, and they disappeared.

_Idiot._

As if Fenris would let them leave. As if she wanted to, anyways. Silly man.

Of course, she'd spent her second lifetime carefully cultivating her care-free Captain persona, and the last six years actively insisting she didn't want to be involved. Probably shouldn't blame him for at least partly believing her. She'd believed herself for quite a while, after all.

_I am also an idiot._

That thought rankled. She was used to being clever. Frequently cleverer than anyone else in the room, even.

_Ah well, no one's perfect, not even me._ "Shall we hold ourselves a bit of a memorial tonight then, for our poor lost Brother, whisky and ale and a tavern with some music?"

"You want to get me drunk at my own wake?" Sebastian's voice had a lift of amusement in it, and she felt a lift of her own, at how nice it was to hear again. "That's a new one, I must admit."

"I think we could all use a chance to say farewell to the past. Start new on the 'morrow." Isabela threw her arms wide, only just avoiding smacking into either of them. "Find ourselves a strong wind and a stronger ship, and get as far from sodding Kirkwall as possible."

"I might be able to help with that."

Isabela lifted her eyebrows, but Sebastian just smiled, and well, that was also nice to see again, so she didn't press, just followed as he turned and led them back towards a tavern that had apparently caught his eye when they'd attempted to find their way through the docks before his little detour.

_SEBASTIAN_

_Void_, he was drunk. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. But despite the spin of the room and the way he had to concentrate to remember how to move his feet and hands, he didn't feel a bit tired. Their room had but one great big bed, and that had seemed potentially troublesome, so he'd settled in the window, a great big wide one with a pillow to sit on, and a plastered wood frame to lean against, and stared blearily out at a sky smeared with torchlight reflecting back and forth between the clouds and the water of the harbor a few streets away.

It would have been a dreadful night to still be camping on the Coast, such thick low clouds, everything dark as pitch. He shifted forward, let his forehead rest against the the cool thick window, a thick wave in the glass pushing against his skin.

It had cost a ridiculous amount of money to get this room, large and open and a grand picture window along the wall. Probably why no one else had it yet; Ostwick was full to bursting at the moment, refugees already trickling in, on top of the usual heavy sea trade of the season.

_It is going to get worse before it gets better._

For all he'd had a surprisingly pleasant night toasting his own death, so to speak, he couldn't quite handle the thought of worse. He had no idea what it meant to not have a Knight-Commander clutching the Gallows in an iron fist.

He couldn't quite comprehend a Kirkwall, no, a Free Marches, without the Grand Cathedral standing tall and proud in the middle.

The Grand Cleric would never lead the Chant on First Day again, spring sunlight pouring through stained glass, candles flickering in the breezes caused by every door and window flung as wide open as possible. Some years the whole congregation had shivered as cold seeped up through the stones, others they'd shed coats and cloaks as the heat of the day and their bodies filled the halls.

_Maker's Breath_, he'd give anything just to have her yell at him again.

_I'm so sorry, Elthina, that I couldn't, I should've done something, I should have seen, I should have been able to protect you._

He'd failed them all, Sisters Etheline and Phylias and ...

His breath caught, his eyes burning, he couldn't even make himself think, all those names, women and men he'd know for years, the two young new lay sisters who'd arrived but a moon ago, even the servants in the kitchens and the guest houses...

His broken sob was unbearably loud in the darkness, and he covered his mouth with his hands, eyes tight shut and shoulders hunched, knees brought up to his chest as he curled down as small as possible, trying desperately to keep himself under control, even as he felt the tears falling down his cheeks and catching on his chin and jaw.

"Shh, sweet thing," Isbela's voice was warm, and soft, and still he tried to flinch away, tighter against the window, at the light brush of fingers against his shoulders. A second hand settled against his shin, fingers spread, one soft squeeze in comfort, and he rubbed at his face and forced his eyes open to see Fenris standing there as well, offering his second hand to help him from the window.

He knew, even then, before he started to move, before he took that hand, before he leaned against the warm brace of Isabela's side, that he'd never have been able to stand on his own, legs uncertain and body aching. But it was surprisingly easy with a shoulder on each side to lean upon, the brush of hips against his sides. It was a blasphemous though, perhaps, but they were his home, more than ever his cell upon hallowed ground had been, or even the fancy rooms and soaring ceilings of Starkhaven's Keep.

He was glad.

Another twist of guilt tightened his stomach, made his back tense, but it was true, he was glad of them, and grateful, and nothing had ever eased his soul so much as the brush of Isabela's hand down his back once they'd dragged him to the middle of the bed, the soft even sound of Fenris breathing above his head. They stayed there, warm and comforting, solid weights between him and the rest of the world, letting him cry, neither of them saying another word.

He was dead. He'd fallen off Andraste's path through the Fade and tumbled into the Void; some demon was dancing on his bones. That was the only possible explanation. He couldn't even groan, his throat dry and his tongue swollen and everything hurt, and was he clutching a pillow to his head?

A huff of breath beside him sounded suspiciously like Fenris trying not to laugh, and despite the small logical part of his brain that wasn't quite dead trying to insist it had been a very quiet noise, the rest of him spasmed and he made a very soft, creaky sort of distressed sigh.

_Ow._

"If you can manage to sit up, I have some tea for you."

Well. That wasn't a demonic sort of thing to do at all. Maybe he wasn't dead.

_Or it's a Desire Demon, switching to offering me the perfect morning, Fenris and tea?_

That was plausible. But he was pretty sure a Desire Demon would've gotten rid of the headache in order to entice him a bit more effectively.

He grunted softly to signify he'd heard, and waited a moment to see if the sound broke anything.

"I would recommend not opening your eyes for a bit." Isabela's voice from his other side was positively dripping with amusement. But quiet. That was very nice of her. "All that window."

He grunted again, rather pleased that it sounded a bit less ragged than the first one.

He waited a bit, until breathing didn't hurt quite so much, then slowly eased his way around until his head was up enough he'd probably manage to sip something without pouring it all over himself, the pillow now under his neck instead of hiding his head. He kept his eyes closed, even so, and tried to pretend that the shift of black and grey behind his lids wasn't too sharp and bright.

He winced at the first careful sip of tea, hot and scalding and bitter, Fenris having helped him wrap his fingers around smooth hot ceramic.

"Oh, did we not mention there was elfroot in it?" Oh, she was still laughing at him. That was rather comforting, actually, and he smiled softly before he forced himself to take another sip. "Crying yourself dry after drinking half the ale in the building is not a good plan for one's head, I'm sure."

He felt an apology stick in his throat, heat across his cheeks that had nothing to do with the lingering steam from his mug.

"Think it was good for the rest of you, though," she continued, voice still light and soft, as if she hadn't noticed his tension. He felt Fenris' hand brush against his arm, another slight squeeze, just like the night before, and was glad his eyes were closed, as he wasn't sure he knew what they'd have been able to read in them, if they were open.

They were quiet after that, and it was only after he managed a proper swallow, that he attempted his voice. "Thank you."

Isabela just scoffed, a breath of air and derision, as if he'd just said something exceedingly foolish.

"There is nothing to thank us for." Sebastian considered just sitting on the bed for at least a moon, never opening his eyes, just listening to the two of them talk, savoring the comfort from the soft rasp of Fenris' voice. "But you are welcome, nonetheless." There was that touch of his hand, yet again, strong fingers against Sebastian's shoulder, and then the bed shifted as he moved away.

Isabela dropped a kiss on his forehead, a light brush of lips and the smell of her hair wafting above him, and she slid off the bed as well. "Drink up, we'll be back with some sort of greasy bread in a bit, doesn't that sound delightful?"

He almost laughed, held it in with a suppressed shudder so as to avoid spilling his tea across his chest. He listened to their footsteps, to the door opening and closing, and tried not to think about what it meant, if it meant anything at all, comfort and kisses and Fenris willing and able and wanting to touch him.

A whole new tomorrow indeed, just as Isabela had promised.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So there's sex now. This happens with Isabela POV for me, sorry. She likes sex. It's ... not as explicit as a lot of what I write over on AO3, so I didn't bump up the rating on this, or edit it out, but I thought perhaps I should give a warning to those of you who may not have been expecting it, as I didn't originally put it in the tags._

_Everyone gets laid._

* * *

_FENRIS_

They discovered, upon attempting to charm, gamble, or buy their way onto a ship, that almost every Captain in Ostwick had plans to head back to Kirkwall, intent on selling basic goods at painfully high mark-ups, and then overcharge to carry refugees away so they could restock and do it all again.

Even the former pirate looked a little queasy at the blatant greed on many a trader's face, and the skin around Sebastian's eyes grew taut and thin as he held in his temper.

It was hours before they were finally directed towards a man heading in the opposite direction, a Captain Abano on a regular run to Antiva. They found him arguing with a woman seeking passage, attempting to grossly over-charge her just for the short leg to Hercinia, the next City up the coast, despite her request to go all the way to Bastion, on the other side of the mouth of the Minanter.

Bastion was, of course, still on his way to Rialto. The man was obviously a wretched example of a human being. But the woman looked desperate enough to pay it, dark clothes and a wedding band around her finger, but no man by her side, and a young daughter clinging to her leg.

The Captain ignored their approach, still focusing on the woman, his smile a wide unpleasant sort of thing as he licked his lips and stared at her chest and started to suggest that there might be ways she could reduce her fare.

Sebastian slid forward and pulled his dagger in almost as smooth as move as Fenris had ever seen Isabela perform, stopping only when the sharpened edge was resting on the man's neck.

"Perhaps," Sebastian's voice was cold and hard, though Fenris could hear the heat of his very poorly restrained temper in every word, "you will be so kind as to accept a more usual sum for the use of a private cabin for four adults and one child, and assuming we all make it to Bastion in one piece," there the dagger shifted just a little, cold steel making a visible dent in the skin of the man's neck, though it didn't quite draw blood, "perhaps then we can negotiate if necessary?"

Fenris had to give the Captain credit, he managed to swallow past the blade without flinching. Much. "And how do I know you've got the coin for that? Private cabins're extra. Have to kick my bosun out to sleep with the crew for that."

Sebastian reached into some invisible inner pocket and pulled out a leather pouch, shaking it by the Captain's ear before it disappeared again. "Does that sound like enough to keep your bosun happy?"

The Captain almost nodded, the shift of his chin stopping quite abruptly at the scrape of steel on skin. It was clear enough, however, and Sebastian nodded his agreement, before lowering his blade and stepping back. The Captain's hand shifted at his side, but he didn't actually lift it to rub his throat before he started speaking.

"Have to rearrange a little. Expect you and your luggage here before sundown to get settled. Tide turns at moonrise."

The woman seemed a little too stunned to manage words, but she nodded quickly enough, and the Captain grunted before turning back towards his ship.

Sebastian's head dropped, then, his chin resting against his chest, a sigh slumping his shoulders as he put his blade away.

"Once a Choir Boy, huh?" Isabela slapped him on the arm.

Sebastian snorted, but lifted his head. "Elthina would have been horrified. My complete inability to think before I act has never served anyone very well, and would've made me a dreadful Prince."

"I think you served someone well." Isabela nudged his shoulder more gently this time, and he turned to look at the widow still standing beside them, eyes a bit wide as she watched their conversation.

"I beg your pardon for barging in, milady," Sebastian sighed, and bowed slightly. She blinked. Fenris couldn't quite blame her. From being harassed by the Captain to being rescued by a handsome stranger who then apologized for the interference was probably not how she'd expected her negotiations to go. "But it has been a very long day and I'm afraid he was very unlikeable."

The woman giggled, a short sound abruptly cut short as she lifted her hand to her mouth, as if surprised at the sound she'd made.

Sebastian smiled.

* * *

It was a deeply unpleasant voyage.

The crew was not pleased with them, the food was barely serviceable, and their cabin was barely large enough for all of them. And yet. The widow was so clearly relieved to be on her way, returning to her parents' home after her husband's death, and even more grateful to have some safe company, it was impossible to begrudge the circumstances.

Serah Olivia was a lovely woman, small and dark and graceful. Her daughter Linnet was almost completely silent for the entire trip, one hand holding tightly to her mother's skirts whenever they left the safety of their cabin for food or fresh air. The only time she smiled was when Sebastian would kneel or sit beside her, singing her songs he'd learned in Starkhaven and Kirkwall, gently reciting the Chant with her before she went to sleep.

It made something in Fenris' chest ache, to watch him with them, to see how good he was with them, how easily he could smile at the child, how simply he seemed to fit into what could have been a normal life. Fenris would never be able to settle so comfortably, could never leave behind the edge his lyrium had given him, the anger that still edged his dreams, could never forget the violence waiting beyond his fingertips.

He spent most of the voyage watching, Isabela frequently by his side, the both of them keeping an eye on the widow and her daughter as Sebastian kept them company, watching their backs so neither crew nor Captain would try anything. It was clear the Captain was not the most trustworthy of men; none of them were willing to split up, no one allowed to walk alone in case his greed or his grudging temper outweighed his sense. There would be no one else to complain, after all, if Captain Abano attempted to do something about the man who'd forced him away from his preferred game.

Of course, if the Captain had done something, Fenris was quite sure he could just kill them all, but that would be messy, and he'd really rather not.

_How I have mellowed, trying to find reasons not to kill people now._

* * *

They finally made it to Bastion, though it took perilously close to forever, and Sebastian paid the unpleasant Captain from the coin Dugald had given him, and their unexpected companion insisted on saying farewell at the docks.

Sebastian might have argued, might have suggested an escort, just in case, but she'd met a man she knew, a fisherman returning from the market who'd been clearly delighted at the sight of her, and he promised he'd drive them to her parents' house when he headed home himself after his lunch.

So instead Fenris waited, watching as Sebastian squatted down to Linnet's level to say good-bye, far enough away he couldn't quite hear whatever Sebastian said to make that shy smile of hers slip free.

"Do I need to steal all your trousers and lock you both in a cabin, then?"

Fenris rolled his eyes and grunted. That didn't seem worth a response.

Isabela didn't let that deter her in the slightest, however, collapsing to sit beside him, feet dangling above the water. "No pants are the best pants, right?"

"We don't have a cabin to be locked into." Fenris pointedly ignored the actual point of either question. He was quite sure they were both admiring the way Sebastian's breeches rather clung to everything in his current position, so it wasn't as if considering locked cabins and pants-less-ness was a painful proposition, but Isabela truly never needed the encouragement.

"Hmmph." Isabela shrugged. "Only a matter of time. Bastion's got one of the best shipyards on the Coast, we'll have much better luck finding ourselves a ship here than we would've in the Marches proper. And then there will be plenty of nice private corners to call our own."

"You aren't really going to strip or molest the man, are you?" Fenris tilted his head to get a better look at her face.

"It is tempting, but no." She sighed, body still and relaxed beside him, her voice soft and even and unusually serious. "If I did, he'd think it was just about a tumble, and he'd turn me down, both for your sake and his own preferences. Withstood my flirtations for years, now, he's obviously not interested in casual."

Fenris gave a sigh of his own. At first it had been easy to refrain from considering Sebastian too closely. The man was grieving, after all, and it was highly unpleasant to imagine the emotional pressure it would be so easy to bring to bear. But he was doing so much better now; an extended sea voyage, no matter how cramped, was apparently precisely what he'd needed to lay the worst of his regrets to rest.

"Not that he isn't interested." Isabela continued, with just the hint of smile warming her expression. "But he's not about to push where he thinks he's not wanted. If you want more than him insisting he's our friend and trying to get himself a separate room soon so he's not in the way, you're going to have to do something about it yourself."

Fenris grunted, afraid she was right, equally afraid he had not a clue what move he should make.

But he didn't have to think up a response, as Linnet wrapped her arms around Sebastian's neck to hug him farewell, and it took only another moment for her to follow her mother into town. Sebastian stood up, pausing briefly to watch them leave before turning to join Fenris and Isabela on the pier.

Fenris refused to admit even to himself that he was relieved to see him return so easily. That he was glad that it had apparently never even occurred to Sebastian that he'd had a chance for something other than the wandering life Fenris and Isabela could offer, a chance to put down roots.

Sebastian had been very good with the child. It was hard to imagine that he didn't wish ...

Serah Olivia had made a few oblique hints, of how grateful her parents would be, of how glad they would be to meet him, _(him, never them, the pirate and the elf were not included_), but Sebastian had never so much as acknowledged the turn of her conversation.

Which ought to have been comforting, but really, all he could do was wonder, as he'd been wondering for years, what then did Sebastian want?

* * *

_SEBASTIAN_

Sebastian found the main chapel in town that evening. It was nothing so imposing as the Grand Cathedral had been, instead a hodgepodge of revisions and alterations, built of stone and brick and wood, but it was warm and inviting and sturdy, red candles and incense, just like every other Chantry south of the Imperium.

He'd never met the Mother who led the service, and he'd been worried, at first, when he'd recognized her reading from_ Threnodies_ of all things, but she'd spoken of strength and compassion and perseverance, and he rather thought Elthina would've liked it.

He managed to smile at that, rather than wince. It was a sad smile still, he was sure, but it felt better than he'd expected.

The singing was the best part, however. It had been too long, too long since he'd sang, too long since he'd joined a group like this, too long since he'd let himself get lost in the words and the music.

He closed his eyes and stood up, just a bit straighter, and forgot everything else for a little while.

Though he'd apparently spent too many years being a Chanter, as he heard his voice pushing past the sound of the congregation singing _en masse_ and couldn't seem to stop himself. When he opened his eyes at the end of the psalm, half the Chantry was staring at him. The Mother was smiling though, so he ducked his head and sat back down again, and tried to be a little less obvious the next time he stood.

Not that he succeeded particularly well.

It was a very good service, and they'd chosen some of his favorites to sing.

Mother Orli gripped his hand during the receiving line on the way out, a smile warming eyes so dark a brown to be almost black. "I have a favor to ask, my son."

"If it is within my power, I would be honored."

Her smile widened. "Our usual Chanter has a cold, poor woman. Sounds rather like someone stepping on a toad when she tries to sing."

Sebastian smothered a laugh in his hand, rather familiar with that sensation himself.

"I was wondering, if you were free to return for _Lauds_ on the 'morrow, if you would stand for her? You sound as if you've had the training ..."

Her voice trailed off, one delicate eyebrow lifting toward the line of her hair.

"I have, I was. Considering vows, once," Sebastian shrugged, uncertain how to encompass ten years of duty thrown away, another six trying to get them back, the catastrophe that had finally forced him forward instead.

"But not anymore?"

He tilted his head, still searching for words, and saw two figures beyond the wide open double-doors, a familiar curve of shadow, the sharp line of the sword behind Fenris' back, and smiled. _They came for me._ "No, not anymore."

She followed the shift of his gaze, and gently patted his hand. "Your friends are, of course, welcome as well."

Sebastian chuckled softly, and shook his head. "I doubt they'll oblige the either of us, Mother Orli, but I shall be delighted to pass along your invitation."

"And for yourself?"

"I'll see you in the morning." He grasped her fingers firmly, lifted her hand to his mouth to drop a kiss farewell along the back, just light enough to hear her laugh, and left in better spirits than he thought he'd had in years.

He grasped Fenris' hand and smiled right into his eyes, then turned to give Isabela a kiss on her cheek, stepping back before she managed to do more than widen her eyes at him in surprise.

"Someone's happy." She was laughing at him, which was lovely, as always, but Fenris had the slightest line between his eyebrows. _ Worried about my intentions, or something else entirely?_

"Of course, it's a lovely night, with lovely company." He smiled again as they began to walk away; he was rather tempted to whistle, in fact. It all seemed so very clear, now. He wasn't sure why he'd spent so many years trying to force himself back into roles that had never fit, when really all he wanted was here. Adventure, friendship, and even, despite Isabela's rather shallow protestations of selfishness, the likelihood they'd get to do some good, here and there.

And thanks to Hawke's gold and Dugald's gift, money he'd insisted he'd be able to get back from Starkhaven _and then some, quite probably, so just take it, silly boy_, they wouldn't even have to worry about how to pay for dinner for awhile. "I promised to help with dawn services, but for now I'm all yours, to do with as you will."

"Anything we want, is it?" Isabela's voice was low and throaty, and _Maker bless_, she was good at keeping a body warm on a cool night just with the sound of her voice, but Fenris stopped completely, that hint of a frown deepening.

"And is that it, then? Giving yourself up to someone else's will? Avoiding a decision yet again?"

Sebastian almost stumbled, unexpected anger, dark and bitter, lacing Fenris' voice. "No?" He turned to face his friend directly, uncertain what he'd said, or done, to spur on Fenris' temper, perfectly well aware his surprise had made his rebuttal sound less than convincing.

"Then what is it you want, Sebastian?" Fenris' voice was low and rough, the line of his body taut, the glare of his eyes hard and firm. "You smile now, after everything. Are you going back?" He tilted his head towards the chapel behind them, warm light flickering behind windows and doors.

"I agreed to help sing?" Somehow Sebastian was quite sure that wasn't what Fenris was really asking, but it seemed presumptuous to want from him something he was unlikely to be offering. _ But what if he is, and only holding back because he thinks the Brother I used to be would not approve?_

That had never properly occurred to him before, but a glance at Isabela's face, half shadowed, eyes dark as she watched, made something in his chest ache at the possibility. "But no," he shook his head, watching Fenris' face now, trying desperately to read something in the expression beneath the dark line of his brows, "I have no intention of staying beyond one more service."

"Then what are your intentions?" Fenris stepped forward, the barest shift of weight onto his toes.

"To stay with you for as long as you'll have me?" Sebastian spread his hands, could feel each beat of his heart as Fenris watched. He saw Isabela shift backwards, as if to leave them to this conversation, so he turned his head to catch her eyes. "Both of you."

"Why?" For all he was always quietly in the background, watching, Fenris was very seldom completely still, the shift of his feet or his hands, the twist of his neck as he kept an eye on every possible direction. Now, though, his arms were stiff and still and tight, something almost like anger shadowing his eyes, but that wasn't it, or it wasn't all of it, wasn't quite right.

"Am I not welcome?" Sebastian hated to ask that, after everything, after dragging them along to Bastion because of his impetuous distaste of the unpleasant Captain, to think they'd just been humoring him, when he'd finally convinced himself that it was more.

Fenris shook his head, short and sharp. "I did not say that. We invited ourselves into your company after Kirkwall. Why do you stay?"

"Do you think me so ungrateful I'd throw away -"

"I do not want your gratitude."

There, at last, a flash of something he almost thought he could interpret, dark and warm in the curve of a cheek and a flicker of green eyes glancing away. Hope was astonishingly painful, when it flashed so unexpectedly through his heart, like a blow to the chest that left him painfully off-balance.

"Then what do you want?" Sebastian's voice dropped as he stepped closer, close enough to touch, though he didn't, not yet. Touching Fenris was never something to do carelessly, never something to take for granted, even when he wanted to so badly his fingertips ached and his throat burned.

Fenris made a frustrated grunt, low in his throat, almost a growl, a sigh as his shoulders dropped. Finally, though, his gaze settled, looking Sebastian directly in the eyes, as if hoping he could express with his face all the things he had no words to say.

_Oh. _

_Thank you._

Sebastian had to swallow before he managed to remember how to speak. "Because I am quite desperately in love with you, and would be delighted to give you anything you want."

If he'd been able to breathe, he might have laughed at the way Fenris' eyes widened, at the soft _"finally"_ from Isabela beside them. But breath was quite beyond him as he watched the curve of Fenris' lips, and felt the tug of Fenris' hand around the strap of his quiver, yanking him through the last spare bit of air between them until they collided together into a kiss. It started as one hard slam of lips, the catch of teeth as Fenris bit his bottom lip, and then it eased, so soft, so sweet, the barest brush of tongue before he had to fall back on his heels, at last, to breathe.

"Well, however much I enjoy the view," and there was that voice of Isabela's again, impossibly rich and enticing, "we should probably get you two behind closed doors to finish this conversation, yes?"

"Two?" Bravery was easy now, such a joy, such a shock, if this was possible, anything was, and Sebastian slid a hand behind Isabela's neck to pull her close, to kiss her cheek again, her skin warm beneath his lips, to whisper in her ear. "I was talking to both of you, don't you remember?"

"Were you now?" Her smile was wicked, her eyes soft and warm. She was not nearly as good at pretending she was heartless as she'd been when they'd met. Or he'd just gotten better at seeing through her more casual masks. "Well then we probably need a very sturdy door with very good locks." She turned in towards his touch, hair trailing against his arm, mouth warm and strong as she claimed his mouth, his whole body hot as the hum of her voice traveled through her lips and across his skin. "Or perhaps a sturdy bed is more important."

* * *

_ISABELA_

Once upon a time, she'd have been the very first to insist that someone with a look like that in his or her eyes could find the door. _ No place for feelings in my bedroom, thank you very much._

Fenris, though. Fenris rather snuck up on her, until she no longer wanted to imagine her life without him in it. Luckily he seemed to have come to much the same conclusion, even if neither of them were very good at saying so.

But Sebastian ... he was fond of words. There were likely to be a lot of them at some point. She found she didn't mind the prospect. He might talk too much, but he also listened astonishingly well.

There was really no denying that she adored the way Fenris and Sebastian were staring at each other, the way Sebastian's hands so gently cradled Fenris' face before they kissed, the way Fenris' body leaned towards him, following every shift of weight as they made their way across their room. Sebastian tilted his head to nip at Fenris' ear, and they both shuddered, heavy breaths and heat and_ Maker_ they were gorgeous.

They both turned just enough to look at her, and their expressions stayed the same, desire and trust and compassion and interest, too complicated to name, love was too simple a word for this, for them, for the way potential and promise made the very air heavy as she checked the lock, and made her way towards them.

_However did I end up here?_

_When did I become someone who would be glad to end up here?_

She had a lead on a ship to follow the next evening.

And if either of them asked, she'd abandon it to go wandering inland and wait to try again whenever they hit against another coast.

A realization which made her want to smile.

Sebastian's hand slid to the back of her neck when she reached them, Fenris' gripping her hip to pull her close, and Sebastian kissed her again, though it was different this time, warm and languid, his whole body leaning in as if there was never going to be anything as important as his mouth on her lips, his tongue sliding past her teeth into her mouth.

She was unsurprised to find she agreed with that lean of his body, nothing was as important as the feel of his hands in her hair, the gasp of his breath as Fenris tugged him back just far enough to kiss him too, to slide his hands beneath a shirt and start to lift. She used her teeth to untie the neck of his undershirt. Fenris growled and snapped a button off of Sebastian's breeches when they refused to slide cooperatively off his hips. Sebastian laughed, rough and delighted, his eyes wide as if he was still surprised to be there, between them, tracing the lines of Fenris' scars and the curves of her skin with fingertips and tongue.

He seemed to need the feel of them in his mouth, a desire to kiss and lick and touch and savor, and by the time they were all just skin and murmured voices collapsing on the bed and his head settled between her legs she was as desperate to feel him as he was to taste; she gasped at the plunge of his tongue inside her, sliding up to lick her, over and over, harder with each desperate keen of her breath, as if she was better than wine, as if this was the very thing he'd dreamt about all those years alone, the weight of her slick sliding down his throat.

Fenris' mouth and hands were on her jaw, her neck, her breasts, a tug of heat from nipple to cunt, her body tight and burning, until her back arched and her fingers clenched in the sheets and she swore a wordless cry of release.

She watched, blinking slow, as Sebastian licked his lips, and gently kissed the inside of her thigh, and lifted his head to look at Fenris.

To look at Fenris' cock, stiff and full between them. She wasn't sure which one of them moved first, wasn't sure what she wanted to watch most once they did, the way Fenris' fingers tangled in Sebastian's hair, or how Sebastian's hands clung so tightly to Fenris' hips, the snap of Fenris' body, back and forth, as his cock disappeared inside Sebastian's mouth and down his throat.

Or maybe, even better than the sight of them, lean and strong and desperate, were the sounds, greedy gasps and moans and the wet slide of Sebastian's lips and the ache in her chest as Fenris murmured bits of broken tevene and Sebastian's name.

She recognized the hard smooth curve of Fenris' back as his muscles clenched, as he pulled Sebastian's head back, just enough to free his throat, and she watched the shift down Sebastian's neck as he swallowed. She watched Fenris breathe, watched him shudder as Sebastian's mouth moved gently along his softening cock.

_I wonder what else our Sebastian would like in that hungry mouth of his._

Fenris pushed gently on his shoulder, and he fell back to sprawl across the bed, chest lifting with each heavy breath, skin flushed and eyes dark and it wasn't time for watching or wondering any more. She and Fenris descended upon that expanse of skin, measuring the breadth of shoulders with mouth and hands, touching the line of hips and thighs, nipping at the edge of his jaw.

There was something intoxicating in the thin line of blue still visible between his lashes as his eyes almost closed, his chin lifted as his neck stretched and his back curved up off the bed and his breath almost begged, rough sweet not quite words escaping past his lips even as his hands reached for them, to brush at skin or hair, to pull a hand or shoulder or mouth close enough to kiss.

He was just so very pretty, naked and open and completely at their mercy. Not that she or Fenris were all that prone to mercy. In this particular instance, however, mutual impatience made rather a good impersonation of such a thing, and she smiled at Fenris as they both reached for Sebastian's cock, fingers brushing together as they stroked, and tugged, and teased, and watched his stomach clench and his hips rise, and listened to his voice break as he came apart and spilled white and hot against dusky skin.

Fenris lifted his hand to Sebastian's mouth, sliding one long slim finger between Sebastian's lips at a time, replacing his hand with his mouth once they'd all been licked clean. She could see their tongues sliding together, could hear their breath catch, felt her own stutter when they paused, lips barely apart, eyes heavy and beautiful as they stared at each other.

That gaze never broke as Fenris moved away, down along Sebastian's chest, until he dipped his head and began to lick Sebastian's skin clean, and Sebastian's eyes slid closed with a rough sigh.

"You," Isabela whispered in his ear, watching Fenris moving slowly across his stomach, "are really quite good at this, for someone who's been cloistered for so many years. Have you been practicing and not telling anyone?"

Sebastian's soft laugh faded into a moan, even as he shook his head.

"Naturally talented, then?" His body jerked, and she wasn't sure if it was her voice, which he seemed quite fond of, or Fenris's mouth along his hips, but either way he looked so very irresistible, and she slid a hand along his cheek to turn his face towards her, to kiss him again, warm soft lips and shivered breaths and_ oh_, he moaned into her mouth again, and her fingers clenched in his hair, quite unable and unwilling to let him go.

He broke away with a gasp, and she laughed as she lifted her head just enough to see Fenris' tongue against his cock.

"Perhaps not so much my talent," Sebastian managed, even as his hips lifted against Fenris' mouth, "as having quite remarkable partners."

"Ever the charmer, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Isabela." She laughed again, until he slid a hand through her hair to hold the back of her neck and stopped her mouth with his.

_Hmmm. Talking over-rated._ She was all for indulging in a second round.

* * *

Isabela woke to the sound of a creak in the floor, her hand reaching for the dagger she'd hidden in the headboard before she'd managed to blink the sleep out of her eyes.

Sebastian's soft laugh reminded her of where she was, and she felt him lean in to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Go back to sleep Isabela, I'll be back with breakfast in a few 'marks."

"However did you wake up?" He was dressed, even, boots and trousers and leathers, though he hadn't picked up his bow yet. "I seem to recall we wore you out quite thoroughly."

"Habit, I suppose." She could just barely see his shoulders shrug in the dim orange light from a mostly banked fireplace. "Plus, I do have somewhere to be."

"We like sweet rolls." Fenris' voice was barely audible, more rough breath than words, thick and slow. "If you're hunting down a baker on your way back."

Another laugh, warm and fond, "I'll see what I can do," and then Sebastian picked up his bow and left, the click of the door loud after he was gone.

"We?" Isabela shifted in the bed, turning to smile at Fenris, who blinked at her, still apparently half asleep. "You like sweet rolls."

"Oh, is it just me?" His smile was as slow as his voice, the warm soft shift of his lips enough to make her sigh. "Whatever was I thinking?"

"That perhaps I'd be forgiving for once?" She rolled the rest of the way onto her side, close enough to brush against his skin. "Because that wasn't a very good thought, you shouldn't have indulged it."

"But you enjoy indulging me." The blankets shifted and he kissed her forehead, almost precisely the same spot Sebastian had a moment before. "And we both enjoy our sleep, when we manage it."

It was her turn to laugh, and squirm a bit into the mattress. That was the truth, after all, and it was very warm and cozy, and still dark out. There was no reason to be awake this early unless one had stayed up that late, and she hadn't.

Sleep was better. She'd just have to pay him back for the breakfast crack some other time.

* * *

The next time she woke she could tell it was still morning, _and really not a morning person boys_, but the door was opening and she thought she could smell something that decidedly wasn't full of too much sugar for a morning.

Sebastian carefully slid a tray to the table, savory bread, and tea, and yes, Fenris' sweet rolls. She shifted across the bed with a sigh, only realizing once she did that she was the only one in it.

"I saw Fenris in the courtyard," Sebastian offered quietly. "Practicing."

She huffed out one short breath. "How does he do that? I woke up when you left, and when you got back, and he just ... disappears."

"Perhaps he climbed out the window?"

Isabela laughed, and rolled all the way out of bed, standing up and stretching her arms up and back, savoring the pull of muscles down her back to help wake her up. And smiled at the hum she could hear in Sebastian's throat at the sight of all her skin on display.

She bypassed the table entirely, leaning into the smell of leather and skin and incense, warmed just the slightest bit by the morning sun, and kissed those pretty lips until he was moaning, hands tangled in her hair again as he pulled her close.

But, surprisingly enough, his hands slid down to her shoulders after not too long, and gently pushed her back. "I think we need to talk, Isabela. Join me for breakfast?"

His cheeks were flushed, just enough to be intriguing, the slightest catch in his breath evening out as he spoke. She rolled her eyes, and turned around in search of a robe before she sat down. "What, are you trying to make an honest woman out of me now, Sebastian? I'll have you know that's a very lost cause, and if you try, I don't care how much Fenris likes you, you'll be out on your ass."

Sebastian snorted, and shook his head as he sat down at the table. "And here I thought you liked my arse."

It was her turn to snort, and he smiled, sweet and warm and open, and she felt a perilous urge to sigh and admire the blue of his eyes, twinkling with just enough humor to prevent him from being a complete sap. _Maker-be-damned, I do like him too much to throw him out on his ass._ She sighed, and ripped free a chunk of bread. A piece of lovely thick bread, lightly herbed, not a bit of sugar or honey to get caught in her throat, and she sighed again.

She hadn't even had to ask. He'd known she wouldn't want the sweet rolls Fenris preferred. _He'd known._ That ought to have worried her, the ties around her heart linking her to the both of them, and them to her, but it was rather nice to have someone know her well enough to bring her breakfast.

"Whatever do you see in us, Choir Boy?"

Sebastian shrugged, the smile twisting just a little, an amused lift of his eyebrows. "You're a better woman than you give yourself credit for."

_Hmmph. Possibly true. Damnit, why isn't that annoying. _"So are you."

"Oh, turning me into a female yet again, are you?"

Isabela laughed. She'd forgotten all about that conversation. She found it oddly touching that he hadn't. "What can I say, I like the ladies." She sighed lightly, kicking a foot under the table to brush against his leg. "And yet I seem to have gotten myself saddled with a pair of boys instead."

"We'd never stop you from," Sebastian trailed off, apparently not quite sure how to suggest she might wander off and get herself laid elsewhere, retreating into his cup of tea as his eyes flickered with almost-embarrassment.

"I know." For such devoted types, it was remarkable how clearly they seemed to understand her need for freedom, without judgment or jealousy. Could almost make a girl believe in the Maker, that, a miracle right across from her, another somewhere outside. "I think that's why I don't really want to. At the moment anyways. Maybe if I change my mind, I'll see if I can find someone who would enjoy letting you watch?"

Sebastian made a stuttering sort of _hmm?_ noise, and she laughed again, watching his shoulders shift and his ears flush. Apparently he could see the appeal in that potential invitation. "However did you do without for fifteen years, lover?"

At that his shoulders eased, and he lifted his gaze to hers again, something still and deep and steady in his eyes. _This. This is what he wants to talk about. _"There's more to life than sex."

She coughed, one hand waving back towards their very tousled bed. "You certainly didn't seem to mind getting yourself some."

There was the curve to his lips again, that twinkle in his eyes. "I did not. You are, the both of you, almost irresistible."

"Almost?" She managed a pout. "I think I may be offended there, I'll have you know I'm completely irresistible."

"You are." And there, his voice was soft again, and it wasn't just humor in his eyes. "But not just because of the sex. I did without for fifteen years because I didn't miss it. I didn't miss the awkwardness, or the anger, or the desperate fumbling of people in the dark who hadn't known each other a day before and wouldn't see each other again after dawn, because that's all sex was for me, before the Chantry, and it caused me more pain than pleasure, most mornings, wondering why I'd done what I had the night before."

She wanted to scowl at him, but he so clearly wasn't claiming the same of her lifestyle, just that it hadn't worked for him, and it made her shoulder-blades itch, that he was, perhaps, more open-minded about it than she was, because she'd certainly thought there was something wrong with him, when they'd met, and he hadn't seemed tempted in the slightest.

And then she wanted to smile, because he was more than tempted now.

"I did not miss sex when it was denied me, when I chose to live without, but this," his voice caught, and his hand reached across the table, and she could not quite resist reaching out to feel the warmth of his fingers against her own. "I do not think I would last a day without either of you, if I were to lose this, whatever it is, and have to remember how to make my heart beat by itself again."

"We're not going anywhere." Her voice was rough, and she had to swallow past the ache in her throat.

"And is that for my sake, or your own, or just for Fenris?"

She pulled her hand back, away from him, and she wanted to be mad, or to make a joke, to deflect this conversation like she had most every attempt at a serious question he'd aimed her way the past six years, and yet, she couldn't seem to do it.

He'd sounded almost plaintive, there, eyes wide and clear. And sad. And his shoulders braced, as if he didn't think he'd like her answer.

It mattered to her, his heart, and wasn't she a right idiot.

"You're an idiot, Sebastian," she grumbled.

He laughed, the bastard, shoulders loosening in an instant, the skin crinkling around his eyes and it was quite improbable how happy that sight made her, Sebastian laughing. "Thank you, Isabela."

She grunted, but couldn't help the lift of her spirits, a bit of a smile of her own. She wasn't sure when he'd gotten so blasted good at reading her, but apparently he had.

_We've both changed some, over the years._

_Though I've always been fabulous._

"I'm still not sure I believe you though, fifteen years, no practice whatsoever?" She lifted an eyebrow, determined to change the subject. And possibly make him blush. That was fun.

He just rolled his eyes. "Perhaps it's like riding a horse. Your body remembers on your next attempt, even if you're a bit sore in the morning."

"Did you just compare me to a horse?"

He paused his reach for a sweet roll, face going completely still at the abrupt realization that he had. "Even an idiot looks good next to a beautiful thoroughbred?"

Swallowing an almost overwhelming desire to laugh, she made herself lean forward, dropping her voice until he'd hopefully notice the edge of her whisper before the amusement. "Don't you know I'm the rider, Sebastian? Or do I need to tighten your reins and break you properly, ride you 'til your legs give out and the smell of the sweat on your skin fills the room, so you don't forget it again?"

He didn't manage a word at that, a strangled sort of almost something getting caught in his throat as his skin darkened well past his usual slight flush and his eyes went almost black as they widened with desire.

"Am I not invited?" Isabela startled, relieved to see Sebastian's entire body jerk at the unexpected rasp of Fenris' voice, _at least it's not just me he always sneaks up on._ "May I watch at the very least?" The door swung silently closed behind him, and she felt her nostrils flare in appreciation as he stalked around the table until he was behind Sebastian, leaning close to whisper against his ear, even as his gaze fixed itself on her face. "Or shall we take turns?"

Sebastian's eyes closed, and she could hear the edge of his breathing across the table, could see the grip of his fingers around the edge of the table.

"That's a splendid idea, lovers." She paused, felt her muscles tightening in anticipation, even as her heart eased, a little, at how easy it was to be here, with them. "Beloveds."

Sebastian's eyes opened again at that, and even Fenris went stiff, for just a breath. She felt impaled, almost, at the force of their attention, their eyes, blue and green and heat and love, yes she could say love, out loud even, because that was so clearly what had happened to her, when she wasn't looking, and wasn't that unexpectedly delightful.

But she really was tired of all the talking, so she stood, and let her robe slide off warm skin and puddle on the floor, and turned back towards the bed, smiling at the scrape of Sebastian's chair and the soft rasp of Fenris' chuckle before they followed.


End file.
